Introductions
by CheshireStone
Summary: Traipsing about the sewers is never a fun thing to do. But sometimes there's things one can do to make it fun.


**Author's Note: This is the first of many stories featuring my OC, Taylor Miner and her interactions with the guys. Please enjoy, and if you wish to offer any helpful critique, I would be very happy to hear.**

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"I am the man, the well-fed man, in charge of the terrible knob…"

She moved through the dark tunnel, trying not to notice that her voice seemed to disappear in the dead air. A lantern bumped against her hip as it lit the way, scaring away rats in the process. Damn sewers. Damn rats. Damn jobs assigned by damn loonies. She was beginning to regret transferring from the naval branch to the Earth Protection Force, or as she was beginning to refer to it, the governmental psych ward. Only in America would they have a group assigned to fighting UFOs and little green men…

She sighed, pulling her bomber jacket a little tighter. The pay wasn't too bad though, at least not for a rookie photographer. And there was less of a chance to be shot at. The young woman grunted as she pushed a particularly stubborn rat away with her combat boots. Even sewers didn't hold a candle to bullets' unpleasantness. She continued with her song, attempting to fill the quiet void.

"The most pleasing thing about it, it's almost a permanent job…when the atom war is over, and the world is split in three…a consolation that I've got, or maybe it's not…there'll be nobody left but me…"

Traipsing about soggy sewers though, for weeks upon weeks, was beginning to get on her nerves. Her photography equipment evidently didn't think too much of the damp, but then, neither did she. And all to take some bloody pictures of some damn walking turtles. Something squelched underneath her boot and she bit back a swear. She was adding 'new boots' to her list of growing expenses. The young woman shook her head and continued resolutely forward.

"I sit at my desk in Washington, in charge of this great machine…more vicious than Adolf Hitler, more deadly than strychnine! And in the evening after a tiring day, just to give myself a laugh…I hit the button a playful belt, and I listen for the blast!"

She stopped suddenly, listening intently. Something (or someone, her paranoid mind added) had made some sort of noise. Almost a stifled snort. Turning this way and that, she looked around the sewers. Nothing? She decided to test this by playing up the silly song, choosing to skip out on the chorus.

"If Brezjnev starts his nonsense, and makes a nasty smell…with a wink and a nod from Nixon, I'll BLAST them all to hell! Aaaand as for that fellow Castro, him with the sugar cane! He needn't hide behind his whiskers, I'LL GET HIM JUST THE SAME!"

There it was. Definitely a snort. She stifled a laugh of her own, as mischief made her ask, "Shall I continue? I think so!"

"Iiiiif me wife denies my conJUCular rights, or me breakfast milk is sour! From eight to nine in the morning, yerrr in for a nervous hour! The button being so terribly close, it's really a dreadful joke…a BUMP of my ASS as I go PAST, and we'll all go up in smoke!"

Whoever her audience was, they were having difficulty keeping quiet. She could just hear the clunk as they fell over, the slight gasping for air from laughing silently. Bemused, she shook her head. Certainly, it was a silly song, but it couldn't be that funny, right? Inwardly, she shrugged, then belted out the last verse before the final chorus for all that she was worth.

"Nowww I'm thinking of joining the army, the army that bans the bomb! We'll take up a large collection, and I'll donate my thumb…for without it, I am helpless! And that's the way to be! You don't have to kill the whole bloody lot, to make the people free!"

Her audience finally decided to join into the chorus, having a surprisingly nice voice to listen to. The pair belted it out, the sewer tunnel echoing marvelously with their effort.

"Soooo I AM the man, the well-fed man, in CHARGE of the terrible knob! The most pleasing thing about it, it's almost a permanent JOB! When the atom war is OVER, and the world is split in threeee…a consoLATION I've got, well maybe it's not…! There'll be NOBODY left but ME!"

Her fellow singer subsided in loud laughter, saying in between giggles, "Ah dude, that was amazing! Who wrote that song?"

"Couldn't really say. I learned it from The Dubliners." She peered into the shadows, smiling. "You've got a good memory, to know all that after hearing it once. Come out so I can see you, I have to shake you by the hand."

"No can do, lady!" The voice continued cheerfully. "I've seen you around these sewers before. I'm sure you're a nice gal, but something tells me you haven't just lost your wallet down the storm drain."

She kept the smile on her face, while suspicion began to bloom like a deadly flower inside her head. Of course her fellow singer wouldn't be here for no reason at all. Damn! She could be so dense sometimes. "Well, you be honest with me, I'll be honest with you. Yeah, I haven't lost a wallet. It's part of my newest assignment. You're probably exactly what I've been sent down to look for, aren't you?"

"Depends, why're you looking for us?"

"Just am. It's part of my job. I'm a photographer for something called the EPF. What, you've got other people looking for you too?"

Finally, the second half of the duet stepped out where she could see them. Or rather, him. The large turtle grinned, his eyes sparking mischievously behind an orange mask as he put his hands on his hips. "You'd be surprised how many people look for us. I mean, we even get tourists down here!"

"That'd explain the couple with the 'I love NY' shirts down here last week," said the young woman as she adjusted her bomber jacket carefully. If she could take just _one_ picture, her long trek through the sewers would be over. Just _one_! Her camera bumped against her chest, begging to be used. The turtle grinned at that.

"Yeah, we saw them too. My brother's getting annoyed at how close the tourists are getting. Seems like they're the only ones who can get past his security."

"Security, huh?" She put her hands in her pockets, one going deep through a hole in the side. Thank god she never fixed her grandfather's bomber jacket. The same hand loosened the screws that held her camera to her lanyard and slowly, ever so slowly, she began to pull the camera towards her pocket. Oblivious, the turtle nodded and continued.

"Yeah, that's why you've been wandering around all the time. We've got all kinds of crap to tell us who's in the sewers. Donny saw you a mile off."

"I was wondering if you guys had names. The file I got never said anything about that," she replied casually, laughing a bit. "They just mentioned you were gigantic pains in the ass. So what's yours, anyway?"

"Michelangelo. Everyone calls me Mikey though." He bit his lower lip, although she guessed it would be considered a beak in his case. He waved at her to go on. "Your turn."

"Taylor Miner, esquire, at your service." She nodded to him politely, hoping to hell her camera was ready. He grinned and took an exaggerated bow.

"Fancy! So what's a nice girl like you working for the nasty old EPF? You don't look the type to believe in aliens."

"It's a job, it pays well, and I don't lose any more fingers. Always a perk."

"Hah, I bet." Mikey smirked at her, pointing to her pocket. "So, is that a camera I see or are you just happy to see me?"

"…You saw me trying to get it, huh?" She smiled weakly as the large turtle laughed, nodding.

"Yeah, you weren't very subtle. But, a tip? Never try sneaking stuff with a ninja." His grin grew wider, if that was possible. "You'll always be five steps behind."

Taylor let out a faint laugh and pulled out her camera. She shrugged. "Had to try, I guess. Would you mind if I took a picture though? It'd make my job easier, and I wouldn't have to come down here anymore."

Mikey threw her a bit of a pouting look, replying, "And what, miss out on any more sing-a-longs? I've been having fun listening to your songs the past few days."

"Look, I just need one photo," Taylor said. Desperate, she seized upon that remark and added, "If you let me, I'll let you come over and we can have some sort of karaoke night? Please! I'm getting sick of stepping on unmentionable body waste. And my boss will stop nagging me."

He tapped his chin as he exaggerated a thinking expression. "I dunno…will there be pizza and snacks at this karaoke night?"

"Pizza, chips, cookies. The whole nine yards. You can even eat from my private stash. Not even my little brothers get that privilege."

"Deal!" He grabbed her hand and shook it energetically. "I'll get Donny to find your address or something later, how's that?"

A warning bell started to ring in her head at this comment, but Taylor let it go. She was going to be able to get out of here! Who cares if a mutant turtle would show up at her door later, demanding munchies? She readied the camera as Mikey struck a rather dorky heroic pose. She bit back a laugh and snapped a few pictures, making sure to get the turtle's new pose every time. "My boss is going to be so confused."

Mikey relaxed from his current pose of machismo and peered at the photos she had taken. He grinned. "Yeah, but now you've got the most handsome of us on file! Man, I should totally become a turtle model."

"Oh yes, you're dead sexy, aren't you." She punched his shoulder lightly. "Got to beat off all the girls with a stick, no doubt."

"Nah, that's Raph. He's a freaking pimp. So, when's a good time to come over, huh?"

"Um. Hm. As long as it's after six, you're good. And weekends are a free for all."

"Sweet!" Mikey wrapped her in a tight one-armed hug. "You know, you're pretty cool for someone who works for Big Brother."

"And you, my rather touchy-feely friend, are very happy-go-lucky for someone who works as a type of assassin." Taylor pulled out of the hug. "I should get going though, Mikey. That okay with you?"

"Can't exactly keep you down here." He replied with a laugh. Taylor slapped him on the shell and began walking the way she came as he called after her, "Saturday, around eight!"

"Hah, right. Saturday at eight." She laughed, suddenly giddy. No more sewers! No more rats! Yeah, she still worked for the governmental psych ward, but at least today hadn't been a wild goose chase.

Mikey watched the young woman walk off, laughing as she suddenly began skipping down the sewers. He knew it wouldn't be a mistake to come down here and meet her. He turned to head back to the lair, humming to himself. He even had a new song to annoy his brothers with.

"I am the man, the well-fed man, in charge of the terrible knob…"


End file.
